Like Two Dogs Dancing
[Content warning: animal death]
He turns into the comforter of rain, no umbrella or hat, just the quilted sidewalk. The spume from wheels passing through the deep puddle by the stopped storm drain arcs into the wet air like the last blood of his black dog that as a child he once neglected to tie up, hit by the back wheel of a parked Fiat unseen until the car started and its blood waved like a fox tail, like the tail of another dog, a red dog playing with the black dog, wrestling in the rutted red-clay road until the black dog fell exhausted.
First published in Residual Heat under my pseudonym Aga Black.poetry residual-heat